


Flock Together

by goldenpuppies_at_heart



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: And children, Character Development, Charming and Snow, F/F, Fluff, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Swan Queen - Freeform, Swan-Mills-Charming Family, Tags Are Hard, a few references to past relationships, but nothing lasting or serious, including Zelena, maybe more of a slow build, without any older Henry or Seattle or season 7 lead-in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-21 05:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11937363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenpuppies_at_heart/pseuds/goldenpuppies_at_heart
Summary: "Despite how long it had taken to get to that point, Emma remembered how content she’d felt. She was part of a family, part of a team. Regina had stepped up right next to her, touched the border, and agreed with Emma. Agreeing was nice. She liked when they did that; it was much better than the old yelling, standing side by side and still managing to ignore one another. Or worse, Regina tossing her through the air with magic."An ode to character development, with yet another disruption in Storybrooke. Swan Queen Endgame.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rexinasofia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexinasofia/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Together [Fanart]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11927418) by [rexinasofia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexinasofia/pseuds/rexinasofia). 



> This is my first time participating in something like this, so thank you to the Supernova team and mods for organizing this, helping along the way, and putting so much time and energy into the event! I've written fanfic before, but usually keep it to myself.
> 
> Thank you to rexinasofia, whose art brought this story to life.
> 
> Thanks also to A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess) for the last minute beta-work! And to Jinx, who dealt with all of the whining along the way.
> 
> Finally, a thank you to everyone reading this! I really loved writing this and hope everyone enjoys.
> 
> Usual disclaimers apply, I don't own anything though this writing is my own, I'm just borrowing some time in someone else's sandbox.

“Ma! Ma, look!” Emma glanced up from her paperwork, lips stretching from a petulant frown to a wide smile at the excitement in Henry’s voice as he surged into the station. Seventeen years old, deepened voice, about to start college, and her son still could sound so much like the optimistic ten year old who had turned up in Boston and turned her life upside down.

“Hey, kid, how was Boston?” She moved out of her chair at once, scrunching her shoulders together as a quick stretch before she expanded her arms for a hug. Henry had spent the weekend at some sort of college summer orientation. Emma had insisted that he’d be navigating the city soon enough on his own and didn’t need his two mothers hovering around all weekend; she and Regina had headed back to Storybrooke after the parents orientation activities on Friday, skipping the Saturday tour of Boston meant to get the parents out of the way so that the incoming freshman could take their first sips of college life and the Sunday “mock class” sessions that parents were allowed to attend all day _separately_ from their kids. It took a little convincing to get Regina to agree to the plan, but Emma was convinced that the activities for parents were more to keep them out of the way than for their benefit. Eventually Regina had caved, not wanting to be one of the parents holding on too tight. Regina had gone to Boston to pick Henry up this morning. His visit to the station was unexpected, but always welcome.

Henry only barely paid attention to the question. “It was good. Ma, look what I found!” Emma blinked when instead of giving her a hug, Henry shoved a large handheld mirror at her, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with excitement that bordered on making him look like a maniac. At her continued stare, he waved his hand in a circle impatiently. “Look at it!”

Perplexed, Emma glanced down at her reflection, then back at Henry. “Uh…nice mirror?”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Flip it over.” He didn’t wait for her to do so, grabbing it and spinning it over before he shoved it back into her grasp. “Swans!”

Examining the image carved into the vintage silver frame, Emma traced her finger over an extended wing. “Oh,” she breathed, entranced. Two swans, surrounded by a laurel-and-flower design, floated across a rippling lake together in vintage Victorian-style embossing. “Where did this come from?”

“I found it in a thrift store near campus! Isn’t it cool? It’s perfect for you, so I bought it,” Henry replied, sounding very proud of himself. “I got Mom this gold necklace that looks like a triangle, but when you look at it from the top, it looks like a crown. Maybe when we move me in for the year we can go there, they have really cool stuff.”

“Yeah, sure…” Emma responded absently, fingers still gliding over the swans. “Thank you, Henry, it’s beautiful.”

“Glad you like it. Anyway, Mom is gonna bring me to get ice cream, do you wanna come?” Now that Henry had clearly achieved what he’d come to the station to do, he’d sauntered over to the candy bowl David kept on his desk and was pawing through it. Emma shook her head at him, lips quirked in a half smile and mirror still in her hand as she sat back down.

“No, your mom’ll kill me if I don’t have this paperwork to her by the end of today. Best not to try to mooch free sweets from her. Now get your hand out of there, you _just_ said you’re going to get ice cream!” Henry made a face at her. “Hey, what’s your mom doing getting you ice cream, anyway? It’s mid-afternoon, won’t that ruin your dinner?”

Henry finally straightened from the candy bowl, a mini Apollo bar in his hand. “Your loss. Guess she just wants to baby me before I leave.” He popped the candy in his mouth, throwing a grotesque chocolatey smile her way. “That means she may even be nice to you, Ma,” he teased, coming around her desk to – _finally_ – give her a hug before he left.

Emma’s smile was slow to fade, though it did drop off her face with Henry gone. She glanced at the mirror again, face up to reflect her pensive, pinched brow back at her. Giving herself a mental shake, she turned back to her work. But she couldn’t help wondering why an infinitesimal beginning spark of loneliness, so familiar to her over the years, had flickered to life again. 

\----

Two nights later, as Emma sat in her kitchen resting her head on her arms at 3 am, she tried to force the oppressive silence around her away from her consciousness. At this point, she wouldn’t mind sleeping on the table right here if it meant she actually slept.

But that would require escaping from the stifling weight of nothingness surrounding her. For a split second, she wished that her marriage with Hook had worked out if only for having another person in the house with her to chase away the isolation and emptiness. Her entire body tensed the moment the thought crossed her mind. It hadn’t _worked_ , she reminded herself, because he had done _everything_ he could to try to crush her spirit and turn her into a docile little ornament for him to hang off his arm. Isolation was better than living like that.

Her breath stuttered out of her, and she forced her face harder against her arms, as if increasing the pressure on her eyes would loosen the pressure around her heart. It figured that she would want someone here solely because she was lonely. This house was too big for her. Too quiet. Maybe she should turn on some music or something, anything to break the suspended static. But she knew from the past that it wouldn’t work: she could introduce sound, but it would not break the void of being alone.

A groan emerged from her, frustration mingling with exhaustion. She just wanted _sleep_ , but it seemed she was fighting a losing battle. She supposed she could try counting sheep, but that never seemed to work.

Emma had never considered herself particularly prone to insomnia. As a foster kid, she’d pretty much learned to be able to sleep anywhere, no matter the conditions. But after two almost entirely restless nights, she wondered if she’d turned over a new leaf. The thought crossed her mind that maybe this had to do with Henry leaving for college, but she immediately dismissed it as a completely unsatisfying explanation. She had been fine all weekend while he was in Boston.

It was just that she couldn’t stand the silence. It allowed too much space for her thoughts to fill. She focused on the rasp of her own breath for a moment, echoing in her ears from where her face was hidden in her arm. It looked like she’d have to get used to nights like this, with Henry headed off to college. Emma’s shoulders slumped, sliding her arms and head forward on the table a few inches. That was certain to make living in this house just that little bit lonelier.

This was the problem with getting attached to people. Eventually, life moved forward and they left you behind. Emma couldn’t blame Henry, he was growing up and she was so proud of him, her smart son who was going to achieve more than she ever had. But this was why she’d always run before she could get too attached to anyone. Even her parents had her younger brother to worry about, the kid they actually got to raise. No, it was inevitable that she would be alone, in this house, with only the dead air to keep her company. It had been a nice few years, being part of something special and important, but Emma’s childhood had taught her all about how quickly things could be torn away from her.

“Oh my God, shut _up_ ,” Emma snapped out loud, unfairly startled by how her voice echoed in the empty kitchen. At least it stopped the flow of her thoughts for a moment, and she grumbled at herself, settling her head back onto her arms. Her time of second-guessing the strong family bonds she’d made based on her childhood abandonment issues had long since past; Henry wasn’t leaving her behind, and she would never regret the time she’d spent with her son. “Stupid brain thinking stupid thoughts. Think about sleep, think about stopping thinking and letting me _sleep_.”

\----

Not that it came as any surprise, but telling her brain to shut up didn’t work, and about an hour later Emma gave up on trying to trick her body into sleeping.

She found herself sitting at the docks, staring blankly at the boats bobbing on the water. The summer air was warm but not oppressive, and Emma took a smidgen of comfort from the light breeze that occasionally brushed against her cheeks and sifted through her hair. It was still dark out, and from where Emma sat she didn’t see anyone out and about getting ready for the morning. A quick glance at her watch told her it was 4:22 am. Not exactly an ideal time for Emma to be awake. She shook her head, pushing her hair back from her face and going back to watching the water. She wondered how many times over the years since she’d come to Storybrooke she’d sat on this bench, breathing in the scent of salt water. For some reason, this was one of her favorite places in Storybrooke. Being near the water was calming to her, something about watching and hearing the waves made everything seem calm, serene. And it was better than the stillness of her house.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but Emma barely noticed the approaching footsteps, distracted by her thoughts until moments before they stopped. “…Emma?” She spun around on the bench, widened surprised eyes meeting Regina’s as the brunette paused next to her. Emma’s lips parted, but her sleep-deprived brain couldn’t supply words for her to say. “What are you doing here?” Regina asked gently, curving her body and bending to keep eye contact as she sat beside Emma.

Emma sighed. “Hi? I don’t know. What are _you_ doing here?” Unlike Emma, who had sluggishly pulled on a pair of leggings and an old t-shirt, her hair thrown into a messy ponytail, Regina was dressed for the day, sensible grey suit dress fitted perfectly to every curve.

Regina had already started looking out towards the water, but she turned back to shoot a soft smile at Emma. “It’s Thursday morning,” she said, as if that explained everything. Emma grunted, shifting restlessly on the bench instead of retorting that it was still Wednesday night. For people who had actually slept, technically it _was_ Thursday morning. Regina’s smile widened as if Emma had done something endearing. “My father used to watch the sunrise every Thursday morning. Sometimes he allowed me to join, as long as we were safe from Mother’s anger. But every Thursday, I wake up to watch the sunrise at the docks – weather permitting, of course. I’ve done it since we arrived in Storybrooke.”

Emma’s lips quirked in a smile. “I didn’t know that. That’s sweet.” Regina didn’t reply, offering a somewhat embarrassed shrug before her gaze went back to the horizon. “Can I, uh, join you? And watch the sunrise?” Emma didn’t want to intrude, but she really hoped Regina would let her stay.

Regina nodded wordlessly, shifting so that their shoulders were pressed together. Emma glanced at her watch again. 4:50 am. Definitely early, but it was only now that her attention had been drawn to it that Emma noticed that the sky had changed since she’d first sat down out here. At the edge of the horizon, a band of a peachy-red had formed, and above them there was enough light that dark-fingered clouds visibly streaked against the night sky. Emma could still see the moon, but it was clear to her that night was fading away.

The two of them sat there in companionable silence, watching the array of colors crossing the sky until the sun was well above the horizon. Finally, Emma whispered, “Thank you for letting me keep you company.” A yawn snuck up on her, and Regina chuckled.

“Go home and _sleep_ , Emma.”

A discontented scowl formed on Emma’s face. “How did…how did you know I hadn’t slept?”

Regina’s eyes danced in the early morning light. “Because you, Emma Swan, do not wake up before the sun rises. The only way you would be awake is if you hadn’t slept yet.”

Despite her best efforts, the corner of Emma’s mouth pulled upwards in amusement. “Okay fine, you’re right about that, but, it’s not like I have long to sleep. My shift starts at 7:30.”

Regina stood from the bench, offering Emma a hand up. “I’ll take care of that. Go and get some sleep. I will not have the town sheriff falling asleep on the job.”

Another yawn escaped from Emma, and she conceded defeat with a nod. “Thank you,” she whispered again. Regina squeezed her hand gently, the touch lingering even after she’d started walking towards town, presumably on her way to start her day. Emma dragged her hands above her head in a stretch, waiting to feel her muscles loosen before shuffling back towards her house.

 

And she slept.


	2. Chapter 2

Friday night dinner tended to be just shy of chaos, but Regina loved it all the same. It had become a tradition shortly after Henry started high school. He’d wanted to have all of his family together for one dinner again, like they had after the final battle. Regina had begrudgingly agreed to host it, and when their whole family found it a pleasant way to end the week, it didn’t take long to decide to have another, and then another, before Friday Night Dinners had officially become a weekly thing. Cooking for eleven (or twelve, as it had so briefly been), including dinners that all of the children would eat, was a challenge at times, but Regina had insisted that her house had the space for all of them and that she would continue to be host, and that meant that she would cook. This week, she’d made chicken parmesan, mashed potatoes, and some green beans with almonds, which she was crossing her fingers the kids would actually eat. She’d even allowed herself the indulgence of baking a German chocolate cake for dessert; she found the time in the kitchen relaxing, and her son’s – and his other mother’s – sweet tooth always approved of the decadent cake.

The first sign that her guests had arrived did not come in the form of a doorbell. Instead, she heard the front door open and she bustled out to the foyer with a dishtowel in hand, one eyebrow raised in surprised exasperation.

“R’gina!” she heard reverberate against the walls first, moments before Neal plowed into her legs with an exuberant hug. A small chortle left her as she leaned down to lift him into her arms.

“Hello, Neal. How’s my favorite little knight?” she cooed, tweaking his nose as she turned towards the door. Snow mouthed ‘sorry,’ shaking her head as she walked up the steps and Charming went to close the door.

That was when Zelena arrived, her hand thudding against the door to keep Charming from closing it. “Knock, knock,” she sang mockingly, raising an eyebrow as she stepped inside. Before Regina could get out a word, though, the patter of a second pair of footsteps reached her ears, and she caught a flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye.

“Auntie R’gina!” Robyn whined, petite hands surrounding her knee. “ _I_ wanted to be carried.”

“I got here first!” Neal gloated, sticking his tongue out at her.

“Children…” Regina warned, but Robyn barely batted an eyelash.

“Why am _I_ not your little knight?” she continued, now pressing her cheek to Regina’s leg and looking at her imploringly.

Robyn squealed as she was lifted in the air from behind, giggling madly as a quick raspberry was blown on her stomach. “Because you’re her little munchkin, munchkin,” Emma teased, holding tight to Robyn’s squirming body and tickling her sides. Regina’s eyebrow rose, impressed that Emma had snuck in the door without her noticing. Henry’s heavy footsteps pounded on the stairs as he raced to join them, and he directed a sheepish “Sorry, Mom,” her way before skirting around his two mothers to greet his grandparents.

“I’m not a mu-mu-munchkin!” Robyn gasped through her laughter. “Mummy, help!”

Now _this_ was what she loved about Friday night dinners, Regina thought, cheeks aching from her grin. “That’s right, Em- _ma_ , she isn’t a munchkin, she’s my little fighter,” she sassed, nodding as if to confirm her words as Robyn finally managed to surge up and bite at Emma’s arm. “Put her down before you drop her, dear, those teeth are sharp,” she added unsympathetically.

“Ouch, kiddo!” Emma laughed from behind her as she set Robyn back on her feet.

Regina moved towards where Snow, Charming, and Zelena were chatting, in part to herd them further into the room and in part to greet them. Her eyes caught on the leash around Charming’s wrist first, and she narrowed her eyes. “You _didn’t_.”

“Wilby is part of this family, too,” Charming argued, and Regina only rolled her eyes, passing his son to him and giving the dog hiding behind his master a pat on the head.

“As for _you_ , years of being a bandit weren’t enough? Now you break into my house instead of ringing the bell?” she directed at Snow dryly, stopping to give the younger woman a brief hug before hugging her sister.

“Maybe find a better place for your spare key than a fake rock, Regina,” Snow replied, undeterred.

“Heathens, all of them, really,” Zelena added, and the former Queen shot her an unimpressed look, knowing that she would have let herself into the house, too, had she arrived first.

“Right,” she scoffed sarcastically, leading the three of them up the stairs.

The door opened behind her, and she rolled her eyes to the ceiling, wondering why she even bothered to lock it on Fridays. “Gold, Belle,” she welcomed as she turned around. It only took until the moment that they stepped over the threshold of her house for Gideon to bolt out from behind his mother, darting up the stairs and moving far too fast towards the side table with a vase of flowers where Henry, Robyn, and Neal were now standing. “Gideon, don’t run in the house!” Regina commanded, mere seconds before the sound of glass shattering filled the hallway.

“ _Gideon!_ ” Belle scolded from behind her, but Regina couldn’t help the smirk that crossed her face.

“Little destroyer,” she murmured, flicking her wrist and instantly cleaning up the mess. The nickname always threatened to pull a delighted chuckle from her as it had the day she’d realized the meaning of his name and the way it matched his clumsy nature.

“I didn’t mean to, Auntie Regina!” he squeaked earnestly, shifting guiltily with wide eyes. Regina wasn’t sure she would ever get over the shock of _Rumplestiltskin’s_ _offspring_ calling her _Auntie_ , but she gentled the smile directed at him anyway.

“Come, Gideon, let’s go to the living room. There’s less to break in there,” Regina teased, holding out her hand to the youngest of their family, who latched onto it immediately.

Friday Night Dinner had officially begun.

\----

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“As I tell you every week, Snow White, go sit down,” Regina retorted without missing a beat. The clamor of noise from the living room had been her soundtrack as Regina put the finishing touches on dinner, but it appeared her moment of solitude in the kitchen was at an end. She turned to glare at her former nemesis over her shoulder, eyes narrowing slightly as she noted the almost-casual way Snow’s hand was pressed to her stomach. A nervous habit Regina was sure Snow had learned from her. “I will have dinner out in just a minute.”

Snow opened her mouth to protest, but seemed to think better of it. “How are you?” she asked instead, moving further into the kitchen to stand next to Regina at the counter.

Regina smirked wryly. “I was better before you invaded my kitchen.” Usually, Snow would complain about not being allowed to help, but ultimately would listen and join their family back in the living room.

“I’m not _invading_ ,” Snow hedged, now sidled up next to Regina and stirring a spoon through the potatoes. “I just want to know how you are. I’ve barely seen you this week!”

One eyebrow rose as Regina reached out and pried the spoon out of Snow’s hand. “I’m fine.” In all honesty, her week had been odd, dreams making her nights unrestful and repairs to town hall filling her days with stress and aggravation, but there wasn’t even a remote chance that she would admit that to Snow. “Although if Leroy triggers the fire alarm allegedly by accident _one more time…_ ” She tilted her head to the side, the threat glittering behind her eyes.

“Leroy works hard,” was all Snow said, a dismissive defense of her loyal friend.

“Yes, well, his hard work is the reason you haven’t seen me this week.” The chicken parmesan was all prepared and set on the serving platter. Regina lifted it to carry to the table, giving a quiet sigh when Snow eagerly grabbed the green beans, hugging the casserole dish close to herself. It seemed she was desperate to be helpful. “Okay, _what_ is going on, Snow?”

Snow grumbled something unintelligible under her breath, following Regina into the dining room. “Hard though it is to believe, I missed you this week. Since Neal had that doctor’s appointment during our usual Wednesday lunch, we didn’t have as much time to chat and I know that you’re worried about that budget proposal for the kid’s community center activities. I just thought this was a chance to check in!”

It was a nice gesture, and Regina’s head dipped forward in gratitude. How far she and Snow had come. “The town will support the budget proposal because you do. And I did not enjoy spending Wednesday’s lunch doing paperwork.” It was the closest she would get to telling Snow that she’d missed her, too.

Though it was yet another thought Regina would never vocalize, Snow’s assistance meant she was prepared for their family to enter the dining room more quickly. Everyone settled in, enough family dinners beneath their belts that the seating arrangement had long-since become established and comfortable. There was also a certain irony to the pattern, a tendency to flank children with their parents rather than allow the little ones to sit together and cause mischief. Regina sat at the head of the oval table, Henry to her right and Zelena to her left. Robyn sat between her mother and Belle, with Gideon placed between his mother and Gold at the end of the table. Emma’s customary seat was next to Henry. Only the insufferable Charmings tended to mix up their seating arrangements, though they dutifully maintained the same three seats. This week, Neal was sitting next to his sister and Snow, while David sat next to Gold. Regina had already decided to ignore that Wilby was in a proud show-dog sit between Gold and David, not wasting a minute before he had started begging for food.

Conversation flowed around the table harmoniously with the clanking of silverware, oddly domestic. No matter how many family dinners they’d had, it always took Regina by surprise that the bad blood between the people at this table had seemingly been swept away, washed clean by the complicated bonds that had brought them all together – or, more accurately, the boy about to enter his first year of college that had woven them all together, their strong connections enough to overcome so much dark history.

“All I am asking, Gold, is for a tad bit of help in protection of _my_ farmland. Farmhouse Greens will not survive if that ridiculous peddler manages to get his hands on it. Storybrooke does not need more real estate, but I have built up quite a bit of business selling fresh produce,” Zelena insisted, her knife waving in circles in the air and her defense of the successful store she had opened in Storybrooke fierce with passion.

“I’ll do what I can, dearie. But as you know, Storybrooke’s land is no longer primarily owned by me. My protections can only go so far.”

“You could always go and egg his house,” Emma said through a mouthful of chicken. When the whole table turned to stare at her, she shrugged, unabashed. “It worked for me once. Granted, I was all of 12 and it got me sent back to a group home, but Billy Leblanc never tried to steal my lunch at school again.”

Regina shook her head. “Miss Swan, there are _children_ present.” She gestured at Gideon, who was guffawing in his chair and rubbing his hands together. Emma merely scrunched her nose at Regina. Any other response, however, was cut off by the small fist of green beans and almonds that jutted out across her plate and opened, raining down onto the rest of her food.

“Hey, buddy, what’re you doing?” Emma protested, pushing Neal’s hand away from her plate.

“Miss Swan, need I remind you not to speak through mouthfuls of food?” Regina sighed, eying the shoving contest between the siblings with a cross between resignation and wariness.

Emma made a show of gulping down whatever was left in her mouth with a dirty look towards Regina. In the meantime, Neal had filled his hand with more green beans, ignoring his mother’s reproach and trying to shove his hand above his older sister’s plate again. “Neal, stop,” Emma warned. Regina brought her napkin up to dab at her lips and hide her smile.

“No! I ate my green beans already, I don’t _want_ more!”

Emma’s response was calm. “Mommy put your serving on your plate, talk to her. Don’t drop food on my plate.”

“I _told_ you, I ate what Mommy gave me already. YOU put these here when I wasn’t looking,” he argued back. Regina’s eyebrow arched as she mentally recounted her observations of the table tonight. As far as she’d seen, Neal _had_ diligently eaten the vegetables on his plate, and Snow hadn’t given him seconds. She blocked out Snow’s wheedling contribution to the conversation, turning the comments over in her head. Emma had not turned to put food on her younger brother’s plate at any point either. She’d missed something somehow.

“Greens are always the best, Neal,” Robyn goaded, just like her mother in stirring up trouble. She bit a mouthful of green beans off of her fork through her wide toothy grin. Regina’s gaze slid from her niece to Neal, who was sticking his tongue out at Robyn, and then to Gideon, who was scowling at his plate.

“Papa, I have too many green beans, too,” Gideon was complaining, and Regina spared a sigh of relief that there weren’t two children filling their hands with vegetables. Although all things considered, Gideon had a rather normal portion of green beans – but as long as he hadn’t taken to using them to make trouble, Regina was unconcerned with how many he actually ate.

“It’s alright, son, you don’t have to eat them all.”

Gideon nodded, Regina blinked, and the pile of green beans seemed to grow smaller. The missing piece of the puzzle slid into place, and Regina closed her eyes, waiting for strength to overtake the exasperation. “Children, what have we said about magic at the dinner table?” She demanded, speaking right over the argument between the Charming siblings.

For a second time that night, Gideon’s eyes widened in guilt. “But Papa said I didn’t have to eat them all!” he blurted out. “I’m sorry!”

Regina gave a small nod. “Thank you for apologizing, Gideon. Please do not do it again.” Her attention focused on her uncharacteristically silent niece, who was now the picture of innocence as she continued eating her food as if nothing had happened. “Robyn.”

“Yes, Auntie Regina?” Robyn’s face was comical, a desperate attempt to look unsuspicious and without a care in the world.

“Apologize to Neal for using your magic to put green beans on his plate.”

“But I – ” Robyn began, but a strict look from her mother made her bite her lip, sheepish in her acceptance of having been caught and now in trouble. “I’m sorry for poofing green beans onto your plate, Neal. I won’t do it again.”

Inclining her head in acknowledgement, Regina patted her lips with her napkin one last time before standing. “Now, who is ready for some dessert?”

“Uh! What about me?” Emma protested.

“Oh yes, how forgetful of me. Miss Swan, apologize to your brother for arguing with him.”

“What?” Emma gasped, and Regina hid her smile. Taunting Emma had accomplished the desired effect of easing the mood in the room, the children dissolving into giggles rather than sulking in their seats. The Savior was pouting now, flicking at stray green beans that had fallen on top of her mashed potatoes.

"And now playing with your food, I see. Neal, you best hope your sister grows up to be as well-mannered as you someday. She's struggling right now." The little boy beamed at her at the same time as Emma scoffed at her plate.

“He _wasn’t_ well-mannered,” she muttered, and Regina could no longer hold back her chuckle.

“Well, she does have a point,” Regina said airily as she headed towards the doorway, already noting in the back of her mind that Emma’s slice of cake should be extra generous tonight. “Apologize to your sister, Neal.” She barely heard her little knight’s humbled apology before she’d turned the corner, lips stretching into a fond smile as she entered the kitchen.

\----

Where the night had seemed to fly by while her family filled 108 Mifflin, time slowed once everyone had left. Though Regina had long since lost her annoyance at the occasions Henry slept elsewhere, the loneliness that lingered in his absence had not been lost. He had spent the week sleeping here, and it was important that he see and spend time with Emma, too, before he left. As Regina settled into bed for the night, she reflected on what she would do once he was gone for college. The house would truly feel secluded then. Her last thought before she fell asleep was that she’d have to find some way to occupy her time.

_Frigid air swept across her cheeks, yet Regina remained outside. The weather did not matter to her. She found better company outside than inside the palace anyway. She swept her hand across the sleek black flank of the horse she was training before releasing him and beginning the training session. Right now, the goal was to be sure he was adequately associating commands._

_Snowflakes gathering in her hair and on her coat, Regina followed the horse around the riding pen, crop tapping occasionally against her boot. This was the only indulgence of her past life that she allowed herself; she’d once thought that after Daniel’s death, she would never be able to be around horses again. But, imprisoned as she was with King Leopold and her insipid stepdaughter, she’d found that caring for horses the way Daniel had taught her was a comfort. Regina knew she was slowly losing herself, and holding on to this one thing, even if it was under the ruse of ensuring Snow White’s newest horse would be perfectly trained up to royal standards, made her feel as though she’d managed to keep at least part of Daniel alive._

_The scent of honeysuckle tickled Regina’s nose, and she felt her stance soften, a genuine smile blooming on her face. Despite the season, despite the snow dusting the ground and crunching under her boots, the sweetness of the honeysuckle surrounded her. She gave the command for the horse to stop and return to her side, inclining her head with pleasure when he did so._

_“What do you think?” She whispered to the animal, caressing his muzzle gently. “Did you have a good run?” The horse neighed softly at her, tossing his mane as he nestled closer into her gloves. In return, Regina leaned against him, slumping her body close to his warmth. With a soft sigh, Regina closed her eyes to breathe in the scent of honeysuckle mingling with that crisp scent that lingered during a snowstorm, feeling it fill her lungs and memorizing it before she began to lead the horse back to the royal stables._

_Later, when her spine had straightened and she’d returned to the role of the King’s Wife and Snow White’s Step Mother, she’d numb herself to her life by letting every detail of the morning session fill her mind, down to the way the grass had peeked out above the gathered snowfall and the tickle of the horse’s breath against her collarbone._

_For now, she brushed the horse down, catching her reflection in the decorative mirror that Leopold insisted be in the stable, believing it to somehow benefit Snow. Probably to bolster Snow’s vanity. Regina did not care for the details as to why he found the mirror to be so important. Instead, she met her own gaze head-on, stubborn. She almost did not recognize the grim woman in the black riding coat that swept to her feet, hair tied severely into a bun with wind-swept wisps escaping the harsh updo’s hold._ _But the loathing of her life – and the loathing of herself – she recognized. Her lips curled at her reflection, and she swore yet again that Leopold and Snow White would pay for what they had done to her. Until then, she turned her back to the mirror, focusing on the horse._

_At least while she remained in the stables, she wouldn’t be alone and invisible._

Regina groaned as she rolled over, groggily coming back to consciousness and instinctively aiming herself towards her clock. This was not the first time this week this had happened, a dream of the past disturbing her rest and jumbling all of her thoughts. 3:44 AM.

At least she wasn’t being killed in her sleep, she thought, mind automatically going back to when the curse had been close to breaking. On those nights, she’d never managed to fall back asleep. She would take whatever comfort she could from the broken clock at the town’s center, gazing at it as she felt her grasp on what was supposed to be her happy ending slipping away and wishing to be Henry’s loving mother again rather than transforming back into the Evil Queen to protect her curse. Back then, the rest of her night would be filled with the feeling of breaking apart and wondering if she was too damaged to ever truly find happiness. This was different; the memories were not exactly _welcome_ , but mulling over her unhappiness in the past merely made her more appreciative of where her life was now. With the ghost of snowflakes tingling in the back of her throat, her mind drifted to happier topics. All those years, she’d been waiting for this moment to arrive: she’d found peace and happiness, a life that she would hold onto with every last fiber of her being.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma was pretty sure she’d managed to completely reverse her entire sleep cycle. It had been almost two weeks of sleepless nights, which would have driven Emma crazy if she hadn’t found a solution.

That solution was that she was taking more night shifts at the station. Because, after all, when you worked nights, people didn’t yell at you or call you lazy when you slept until noon. So she was sleeping from 7am to 12pm daily, night shift or not. Even if she kind of missed the mornings – especially mid-morning coffee meetings with Regina for “town business” – Emma was sleeping again. That was worth a little bit of lonesomeness, right? Sleep was crucial, Emma reminded herself, and not getting enough sleep was dangerous...so Emma was making the right decision, choosing sleep over a minimal sacrifice of time with her family.

Emma’s shoulders slumped, and she flicked the rubber band she’d been playing with across the station, taking another from the rubber band ball housed in her desk, a present from Neal last Christmas.

Storybrooke barely _needed_ an officer on a night shift. Sure, occasionally it happened that some previously-thought fictional sludge crawled out of the ether in the middle of the night to terrorize the town before she and her family dealt with it, but on the whole there wasn’t much crime in Storybrooke at night.

Emma was _bored_ , and she was only halfway through her shift. She rustled through her desk to see if she could find another source of amusement. When she’d been in the foster system, she’d had to entertain herself for hours on her own; it meant she’d come up with all sorts of games for herself out of everyday objects that she could either carry around constantly (rubber bands could live on your wrist for _weeks_ before they broke) or could count on finding no matter where she was sent (Emma had been the QUEEN of collapsing and stacking plastic cups, and her own invention: cup jenga). Her hand landed on a paper football, and she bit her lip, considering whether it was entertainment-worthy or not before continuing in her shuffle. She could, of course, play some trash can basketball – which, by the way, how _else_ did everyone think Henry had done so well in geometry? It was completely because of all the games of trash can basketball the two of them had played during his sophomore year – but Regina had taken away the metal trashcans last week after she and her father had been caught using them as shields during their improvised sword fight. The plastic replacements didn’t make as satisfying of a noise when you scored , and so the appeal of trash can basketball was lost to Emma right now. They’d also lost their broom and mop in that sword fight, meaning Emma couldn’t use either of those to create a hurdle for her to jump over.

“Come on, Swan, think,” she grumbled, drumming her fingers on the table as she grew restless. The sound it made drew her in, distracting her from her search as the rhythm became more staccato, faster. She hadn’t been more than nine years old when her foster parents had gotten into a car accident, her foster father too busy yelling at her foster mother to watch the road in the rain. Later, he’d blamed the car accident on Emma, telling her that it was her drumming on the car door with her fingers in the backseat that had caused the crash. Emma ripped her fingers away from the desk as if she’d been burnt, a chill quaking down her spine. The worst part had been that Emma believed him: when they sent her back, she repeated the lies she’d been told to the social worker, the burden of blame for an argument that had nothing to do with her or her actions heavy on her shoulders. Her foster father’s words had ricocheted through Emma’s brain for hours, keeping her in tears the whole ride from the hospital back to the group home and repeating in her head for days to come. It was Emma’s first experience with whiplash, not that her foster parents had cared about her injury – physical or metaphorical.

Her jaw twinged, protesting how she’d clamped it shut, and Emma shook herself, standing from her chair and making a deliberate effort to relax.

“You’ve just been in the station too long,” she whispered to herself. It was an excuse, and she knew it. She needed to leave, go…do something. Get out of the station and out of her own mind. Emma snatched the keys to the cruiser off of her desk and headed to the door in one smooth motion, only to halt when she caught sight of her reflection in the door’s glass. “Panic doesn’t suit you,” she hissed, averting her eyes from her own pale face and storming out of her office and then the station. “Patrolling. Patrolling is good, patrolling is busy, you have to concentrate when you patrol.”

She was behind the wheel of the cruiser before her thoughts caught up to her. With a disparaging chuckle at herself, she checked her rearview mirror to be sure no one else was on the road before she sped up the car.

How many times had she crashed the cruiser? Emma could remember at least twice. Unfortunately, somehow in her grown-up life she’d gotten into numerous car wrecks. Yet after that accident Emma had sworn to herself that she would never be the reason a car accident happened again. It didn’t matter, really, but Emma scoffed at the irony of driving to escape memories of her foster father’s collision. Clearly, she’d broken her own promise to herself, and was risking doing so again tonight by driving while so distracted. Patrolling hadn’t erased her foster father’s voice from her mind, hadn’t silenced the constant stream of words about how Emma was more trouble than she was worth, and would always _be_ more trouble than she was worth.

A grimace contorted her face. Well, there were people in this town who disagreed with him. Her late-night patrol had taken her around town, past several of the homes of those people. Emma slowed the car near the clocktower, hesitating to go back to the station. All calls were transferred to her cell, and there was nothing going on.

Maybe a drive out to the town line would help calm her mind.

With nothing but trees and the blue lights of her car’s dashboard to keep her company, Emma forced her thoughts away from her childhood. A thin orange line had completely changed her life. That first night she’d driven Henry home, she’d had no idea she was bringing herself home too. Of course, plenty of things had happened at the town line that weren’t exactly positive memories. Smashing her Bug into the Welcome to Storybrooke sign. Being sent away before Pan’s curse. Running away from a Chernobog. Careening into the town’s newly replaced protection spell with her parents in the car.

Okay, so maybe Emma hadn’t fully gotten her mind off of car crashes. She groaned, pulling over to the side of the road a safe distance away from the line.

It definitely had not been her finest moment. Of course, she’d been looking out for her parents. The Count wanted to kill them. Regina told her to bring them somewhere safe, and her first thought had been to go somewhere without magic. Her parents hadn’t wanted to run. Emma, however, was an expert at running.

Except when magic force fields threw her backwards and threatened to give her and her family concussions.

Emma had been so stupidly proud of herself for being able to tell Regina that the accident hadn’t been her fault. Well, technically she’d told Regina that the Count hadn’t crashed the car, and pointed out the protection spell. They hadn’t known at the time that it had been put in place by the Evil Queen, of course, but at the time, there had been plenty they hadn’t known. And Regina had regarded her as a partner in figuring out what was going on.

Despite how long it had taken to get to that point, Emma remembered how content she’d felt. She was part of a family, part of a team. Regina had stepped up right next to her, touched the border, and agreed with Emma. Agreeing was nice. She liked when they did that; it was much better than the old yelling, standing side by side and still managing to ignore one another. Or worse, Regina tossing her through the air with magic. No, Emma much preferred the occasions when they’d worked together, and that moment before they’d discovered the Evil Queen was back had been the kind she’d come to relish: where she got to help Regina with something, listen to her and have her listen to Emma. Where she could allow her respect for Regina to come to the surface while they acted as the town’s heroes.

Her cheeks were sore, and Emma realized that for the first time that night, she was grinning. Her foot eased off the break, and instead of racing over the town line – or smacking into any invisible barriers, as she had grown so accustomed to – she turned the car around and came to a gentle stop, just beside the Storybrooke sign. “Trouble or not, I belong here,” she whispered to it.

Watching the “Leaving Storybrooke” sign fade in the distance through her rearview mirror was satisfying. Once she could no longer make out the letters, Emma sped back into town.

\----

At 6:40 am, right before Emma’s shift would end, the sound of heels clicking down the hallway announced Regina’s presence. Raising an eyebrow, Emma pulled her feet off her desk, placing the paperwork she’d been working on down and peeking out the door to her office just as the brunette entered the bullpen. With a bag from Granny’s in hand.

Emma’s tongue ran over her lips unconsciously as her stomach grumbled. “Morning,” she greeted, leaning against the door frame. Regina smirked at her, and Emma knew she’d heard her stomach. Emma’s head lowered in slight embarrassment.

“Good morning, Sheriff.”

“Uh oh, what did I do now? Am I in trouble?”

The teasing chuckle Regina gave in response made goosebumps form on Emma’s arms. In four long strides, Regina was in front of her, shoving the bag from Granny’s into her chest. Any grateful cheer Emma would have given lodged itself in her throat, however, at Regina’s next words. “Speed through my town like that again, Miss Swan, and that shiny set of keys of yours become mine.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “How did you know about that?” she squeaked. Regina moved to sit on the nearest desk, and Emma stole a glance into the bag. It _was_ a bear claw. She pursed her lips, confused. Regina was here to scold her, but she’d also brought Emma her favorite treat. “Uh, I mean,” she stumbled too late, “what are you talking about? I haven’t sped through town. I’d never!”

“You would, and you did.” That made her squirm, and Emma crinkled the paper bag in her hand as she assessed the wisest move right now. Regina looked entertained. “You’re not a very good liar anymore, Emma.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Emma wrinkled her nose, turning her attention back to the prize in her hand. She decided that she’d waited long enough, and pulled the bear claw out, humming in content when she stuffed a massive bite into her mouth and the taste of cinnamon, almonds, and pastry hit her tongue.

Regina’s calculating gaze was still on her, and Emma felt her cheeks heat. As she leaned down for her next bite, she let her hair fall forward to hide her face. They’d been friends for _years_ , and Emma felt her throat tighten at the idea that maybe Regina would be able to figure out that she was struggling. She didn’t want to have to admit to her best friend that she had almost run last night; that itching feeling that resulted from her past that nearly sent her out of town had faded, and with the sun streaming in through the windows brightening the station, Emma had no desire to explain her actions. Regina opened her mouth to speak, making Emma gulp harshly, but she seemed to reconsider what she was about to say. The former Queen crossed her arms casually, adopting an air of deliberate coolness. “I trust all is well? You haven’t discovered any disturbances you’re not informing me of?”

Emma swallowed her bite of bearclaw, eyeing Regina skeptically for a moment before responding. “Yeah, no disturbances…”

“Excellent. Then, since there is nothing requiring your nightly attention, I presume you will return to your regular shift schedule and reassure our son that you are not planning to overwork yourself to an early grave shortly before he leaves for college?”

Cursing silently at the deer-in-headlights look she _knew_ was on her face, Emma gave a slow, timid nod. “I’m not running myself into the ground,” she protested weakly.

Regina cocked an eyebrow at her, unimpressed. “When your father and our son come to me to express their concerns and note the odd night shifts you’ve suddenly decided are your preference, I somehow find that hard to believe.” Emma shifted her weight from her heels to her toes and then back again, reluctant to argue. She had, after all, been up all night, and Regina was smarter than her and perceptive even when Emma was at her sharpest.

“I’m fine.”

The hard, unconvinced expression melted away from Regina’s face as fast as it had appeared, and Regina’s arms dropped from where she’d crossed them as she crept closer to Emma. “No. Something is bothering you.” Emma edged backwards, hearing her heartbeat pound in her ears. That only seemed to soften Regina more, compassion painting little lines onto her forehead and around her eyes. “I’m not going to force you to tell me anything. But I do know you. You are not fine. Among other things, you only say you are fine when you are not.” The corners of Emma’s mouth drew downwards, and she fought to keep her discomfort off of her face.

“You don’t have to lie, Emma. And you don’t have to tell anyone what is going on. But if you need help, please, ask for it. Before Henry cannot hold back his worry anymore and decides to take action.” The inflection of Regina’s voice sent warmth throughout Emma. She’d spent so many years without anyone paying attention to her wellbeing that it still felt foreign to Emma. Regina was paying rapt attention to her, concern written on every inch of her face.

“I know,” Emma croaked, all she was able to say before she slid her gaze to her feet. She heard Regina take a long inhale, almost as if she was composing herself. Emma peered at her through her eyelashes, noting her perfect posture and the neat fold of her hands in front of her body.

“Very well. I shall see you at the town picnic this evening. _Don’t_ be late.” A glint of mischief flickered across Emma’s face as she raised her head.

“Right. 9:30 pm, right?”

“ _Seven thirty_ , Miss Swan. I swear –”

Emma bit her lip, holding in her laugh, eyes glittering as Regina rolled hers skyward. “I’ll be there on time. Thanks for breakfast, Regina.”

Regina nodded in acknowledgement of her words, sparing Emma a quick smile. “Have a good day, dear.” Emma returned the sentiment, and soon after Regina left, Emma headed home. She hoped her night of churning thoughts was over and she’d fall asleep the minute her head hit her pillow. It was only as she was falling asleep that Emma realized that Regina had had faint dark circles under her eyes, as if she’d been having trouble sleeping, too.

\----

Feeling much better after several hours of sleep, Emma sat in the park, looking over the lake and the preparations for tonight’s picnic while taking a break from her jog. It was a comfortable day, a cool breeze coming from the sea tempering the heat from the bright sun. A few fluffy clouds rolled past, casting occasional shadows across the water, but for the most part she couldn’t have asked for a better summer day.

Emma idly stretched her legs, focused on watching her mother and Regina talking – or arguing, it was a little hard to tell – on the other side of the lake where they were assisting in set-up. From what Emma could see, her mother was trying to put up streamers, and Regina…

was setting them on fire. Emma giggled, watching several of the other volunteers rush over waving around water bottles, only for Regina to put out the fire with a wave of her hand before they spilled a drop. Her mother’s hands were on her hips, back facing Emma, but Regina’s smug look told Emma all she needed to know about the contents of that conversation.

A splash from the lake grabbed Emma’s attention, and she shifted to watch the two swans floating together across the surface. It reminded her of the mirror Henry had given her, and she pulled out her phone to snap a quick picture to show him later.

Despite how relaxed she was on the bench, Emma knew she should continue on her jog. Otherwise she was probably going to fall asleep here. A few more moments of taking in the atmosphere of the park and enjoying the sun on her skin wouldn’t hurt, though.

Emma let a good ten minutes pass before she finally found the motivation to start up again. She did some warm-up stretches, not interested in spraining any muscles by jogging now after sitting for so long, all the while continuing to watch the set-up for the picnic. After her jog, she should probably come back to help out with preparations: all of the folding tables had been set out, and the volunteers were working on unfolding chairs. But Emma knew that, even if everything was perfectly in place, Regina would obsess until the minute townspeople began arriving; if Emma came to help, maybe she could alleviate some of her stress.

Green eyes unconsciously sought out Regina as Emma adjusted her headphones in her ears and started her music back up. The Mayor was laying down blankets, fussing to straighten them, and delegating tasks to anyone who approached her with a question. All the while, Regina’s cheeks were dimpled, her face glowing and sunlight speckling highlights into her hair. Emma felt her heart skip a beat.

More limber from her stretching, Emma picked up a slow pace, choosing to jog around the loop of the lake to extend her exercise a little bit before she’d run down to the beach, finishing off back at her house. She waved at her mother as she passed by, acknowledging others who greeted her with a nod or a wave.

On her last glance back to the picnic preparations before she left the park, her eyes centered once again on Regina, tilting her head back and laughing at something one of the dwarves had said to her. Emma could see the glint of her gold necklace catching the sunlight, the way her hand was pressed to her chest to steady herself in the onslaught of her laughter; Emma’s eyes crinkled in joy. It turned out this jog had been exactly what she needed today, because with every footfall she felt connected to the town, no longer the loner who had stumbled in but an integral member of the community. She breathed in deeply, capturing the scent of fresh-cut grass in her lungs as she turned the corner of the path and left the park.


	4. Chapter 4

_The moment the boat hit the sand, Regina knew where she was, and knew she was dreaming. Neverland. A place she never wanted to return to, not even in her sleep. Yet, here she was. Skull Rock, the place Peter Pan had taken her son and tricked Henry into giving him his heart._

_“So what are we supposed to do now?” she asked, pacing across the sand. Phantom frustration built in her, a desperate need for an outlet for her protective instincts. Yet even as the conversation played out the way Regina remembered, her attention was attuned to different features during this dream. Emma was staring at the sky, a look of deep contemplation on her face. The words ran through her mind moments before Emma spoke them._

_“The moon. The moon is what causes our shadows, right? What if there was a way to block it out using magic?”_

_Regina had felt a surge of unwelcomed hope at those words, and she felt a powerful echo of it now. It was a strange sensation, experiencing her emotions from the past and from her dream-self. Current pride in Emma’s cleverness warred with the begrudging and tenuous admiration Regina had felt for Emma in that moment._

_"What, you mean like an eclipse? Is that even possible?” Dream-Neal contributed._

_“Maybe...” Regina’s hands tangled together, and she remembered the way thoughts had flitted through her mind, too quick to capture one at a time and analyze._

_“So?” Emma asked with a tinge of desperation, something Regina hadn’t heard that night. But at the same moment the question was asked, a plan had begun to form in Regina’s mind, a spell that_ might _work, if the two of them could work together._

_“I need help,” she felt herself admitting._

_“With_ magic _?” Emma’s astonishment earned her a harsh look from Regina and a sharp retort. But they didn’t have time for Regina to explain every intricacy of magic. She knew they had to act fast, and run based on instinct alone._

_“Follow my lead.”_

_Emma did, and their magic entwined, curling together tighter and tighter under Regina’s skin. She took a deep breath, still unaccustomed to the warm tingling racing through her bloodstream that occurred whenever she and the Savior combined their powers and worked together - no matter how many years now they’d been doing so. At the same time, Regina could feel her past-self’s resistance to the sensation, a prickly roiling of her stomach born of trying to reject the rightness of their magic merging._

_That night, they’d stood side by side, worked together, but maintained the barriers between themselves: Regina had been almost unwilling to accept the help, and Emma still wary of using the full extent of her magic. They hadn’t seen eye to eye back then, and even as their magic had managed to create an eclipse over the moon and darken the world long enough for them to get over Pan’s line, Regina had been unwilling to acknowledge the significance of what they had done. Deep down, she’d known what it meant that they were able to use that kind of magic, known how significant and rare it was, and known that it couldn’t have just been because of Emma’s Savior status and her expert power and control over her own magic. This was different. Magic didn’t acquiesce to these demands without a powerful bond between the magic-users. At the time, she’d rationalized that it was each of their independent bonds to Henry that had made it possible._

_“We did it,” Emma whispered in awe, looking back up at the sky once they’d crossed Pan’s line._

_“Yes, we did.” Even Regina’s voice was soft, trembling with amazement at the magnitude of what the two of them had just done. Emma’s eyes latched onto Regina’s, almost like the former Queen was the Savior’s only lifeline in that moment. For barely a second, Regina had let all of her walls drop, allowing the heady rush of confidence, hopefulness, and longing to creep up her face and quirk the corners of her lips._

_But, the moment was broken by Neal. “Let’s go.” In the blink of an eye, Regina had pushed those emotions back, only allowing her protectiveness and love for her son to drive her._

_In the darkness that they had created that night, they’d raced up the steps to find their son._

\----

Regina had become well-accustomed to being woken by strange dreams. It was happening more and more often now. Not to mention that this was the second dream tonight that had woken her. After her dream about Neverland, combining her magic with Emma’s to rescue Henry, Regina had been able to fall back asleep just by slipping back down into the sheets and turning her head on the pillow. This one, however, bothered her more than others. Most of the dreams that were disturbing Regina’s rest had been memories, reflections of past events that unfolded as if Regina were back in that moment, living it all again. This dream, however, had been different. In fact, in both of her dreams tonight, she’d known she was dreaming. She’d been in control of the dream, she could have changed it if she’d wanted, and yet...she hadn’t. Regina shook her head at herself, shifting her duvet over to the side and getting out of bed. She would need some of her cider to help address this one. Or at least to help her fall asleep again.

The second dream had involved training Emma as a magic user. She’d tried to trigger Emma’s natural instincts, playing the bully and dangling Emma off of a bridge that she’d destroyed rung by rung.

Emma had fallen and Regina...well, Regina had thought she’d done the unthinkable, and killed Emma. In her dream, it had taken a lot longer for Emma to emerge on her bridge chariot, leaving Regina with a massive lump in her throat as she’d wondered what she could do, if Emma could be saved, and if the blonde would ever forgive her. Her chest had tightened painfully, and the part of her that knew she was dreaming had berated her for not changing her actions when she _knew_ what was going to happen. In those long seconds that stretched out without the Savior’s presence, she’d felt the blood pulsing through her veins, a sense of panic overcoming her and leaving her motionless – what would she do if Emma…She wouldn’t be able to live if Emma…

Yet Emma had floated back to the surface, unscathed, just as she had that day in the woods. And the blonde had thought she’d been angry because Emma had saved herself in her own way, not the way Regina had envisioned.

Regina rubbed her forehead as she held the railing of the staircase, one foot beginning her descent as she paused. She hadn’t been angry at Emma that day. She’d been angry at herself, for doing something that so clearly put the Savior at risk. And she’d been awed by Emma’s powers, astonished by the explosion of fondness she’d felt in her chest when Emma came to a halt next to her. Regina had never thought she’d come to admire Emma the way she had.

_“Why are you pissed, I did it, why does it matter how?”_ Emma had asked her again in the dream.

_“You think I’m mad because you didn’t listen to me? I’m mad because…”_ But instead of scolding Emma as a waste of potential as she had that day, she’d been honest about what she was angry about. Her words barely hitched, but she’d pulled Emma close to her in a hug, whispering an apology into the fleece lapel of Emma’s coat. _“I’m mad because I was foolish. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”_ She’d listened to two mockingbirds sing in the distance and the rushing water below them, clinging to Emma in regret that was still tinged with the appreciation of Emma’s powers and the adoration she’d felt well up inside her that day.

What Regina didn’t understand was why her subconscious had drawn that emotion to the forefront. Why her dream hadn’t proceeded the same as those events had that day. Her dream memories were moving, it seemed, away from her angst-ridden past and towards moments after the curse had broken that had changed her, made her the person she was today. Her family was front and center in those memories now, which was a relief from the barrage of loneliness she’d experienced when these dreams had started. Now she just needed to figure out _why_ this was happening.

She was just about to enter the kitchen when she noticed the motion-sensor flood light that Emma had insisted on installing over four years ago was on. All thoughts of her dreams fled as her eyes narrowed. Tiptoeing up to her front door, she kept quiet, knowing better than to be visible in the windows but still interested in finding an answer for herself before she alerted anyone else to the potential of an intruder at her house. It was rare these days for people to carry their old hatred of the Evil Queen as most of the town had forgiven her based on the number of times she’d saved them, but every once in a while she encountered someone still harboring the desire to see her downfall. She held her breath, closing her eyes and listening.

What she heard was the familiar tap of boots, and tension she didn’t know had stiffened her shoulders flowed away. Regina rested her weight against the door, gathering the strength she needed to push her own worry about her dreams aside, before she wrenched it open.

Shocked green eyes shot up to her face on the other side of the doorway. “Regina.” Even the one word was filled with panic.

“Emma, what are you doing here? It’s late, why aren’t you at home?”

Emma didn’t answer Regina, her lips moving wordlessly and eyes flitting side to side; Regina could almost see the cogs turning in the blonde’s head as she tried to work out an explanation or excuse. It gave Regina a moment to examine her friend: the paleness of her skin, the glossiness of her bloodshot eyes, the ratty sweatshirt falling apart from age wrapped around her frame. Over the last few weeks, Emma had joined Regina almost every Thursday to watch the sunrise. The blonde had suddenly developed her affinity for night shifts. And now, she was standing outside of Regina’s home, pacing a hole in her patio and trembling as if she could no longer control her own fitfulness.

Regina pushed the door wider, gesturing for Emma to enter. “I’m...” Emma started, rocking back on her heels as if she wouldn’t enter, but Regina reached out a gentle hand, forcing her forward a few steps before Emma cooperated and entered the house.

“Are you ready to tell me what’s bothering you yet, Emma?” she asked as she shut the door.

Emma shrank under her scrutiny, hardly giving one shake of her head before she bolted towards Regina’s study. With a sigh, Regina wrapped her robe tighter around her, following Emma. At least she would still be able to have that glass of cider. By the time she set foot in the room, sliding the doors closed behind her, Emma had hunkered down on the couch, steadfastly avoiding Regina’s eyes as she curled the frayed edges of her sweatshirt sleeves around her fingers. “Emma?”

The only sign that the blonde had heard her was the way her jaw clenched and her hands fisted more into the material of the sweatshirt before she rapidly extracted her fingers from it, likely realizing that it was a tell that Regina would be able to read. Still, Emma didn’t say a word.

Regina resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Well, if you're just going to sit there and brood, common courtesy demands that I offer you a drink."

Emma lifted her head just enough to peer at Regina, legs still tucked underneath her and fingers Emma couldn’t seem to stop moving now pulling at a loose thread in her jeans. "Can I have tea?"

"That's an unusual request from you, but you may."

Emma's head ducked down again. "With jam and bread?"

"Jam and...I beg your pardon?" Already a half-step towards the kitchen, Regina pivoted around to face the blonde, incredulity on her face. There was something different about the way Emma had spoken those four words that Regina couldn't put her finger on. Or perhaps it wasn’t the way she’d spoken but the words themselves. Regina was struck by the oddity of the request at this hour, something rather formal about it, as if Emma were seeking to turn their midnight conversation into the afternoon teas she’d seen on television. “You want…jam and bread? At almost one in the morning?”

Emma offered a half-shrug in embarrassment, wriggling on the couch until she was hugging her knees. "Foster mom number six was obsessed with _The Sound of Music_. Always stopped it after the wedding and before the Nazi stuff...I didn't know what really happened until middle school. But she loved Do-Re-Mi, and made us learn it to sing in the car. So, yeah, tea is _a drink with jam and bread_." The half grin on Emma's face faded rapidly, self-consciousness hitting her after she sang the lyric, and she curled her body into a tighter ball on the couch, facing away from Regina.

Regina held still for a moment, taking in the silence of the room. With a small exhale, she slowly approached the couch, kneeling in front of Emma and grabbing one of the blonde's hands in her own. "Emma, what, exactly, is going on?"

“…I’m not sleeping,” the blonde replied meekly. It was so unlike the headstrong Emma Swan that Regina knew, which pulled heavily at her heart. Emma sounded small, as if admitting something was wrong would throw the entire balance of the world off. Though she’d relented to allow Regina to hold one hand, her other arm remained tightly wrapped around her legs, and she was barely peeking at Regina over the crest of her knees.

Regina gave a gentle squeeze of Emma’s hand in support, the line of her mouth remaining grim. “Yes, I know that. But _what_ is going _on_?” Emma said nothing, and Regina let a puff of air escape her lips as she straightened to sit on the couch, not relinquishing her grip on the chilled hand in her grasp. “I know you. I _know_ something is wrong.” When Emma still did not speak, Regina focused her gaze on the wall, deep in thought about how to coax an answer from the Savior. She didn’t even realize she’d shifted to press her shoulder to Emma’s until the blonde huddled closer to her. The new position rotated Regina’s wrist to an awkward angle and trapped her arm between their bodies, but whatever support Emma was gaining from the contact was worth the ache that she was sure to experience tomorrow. “All these sleepless nights, all these references to your childhood…” she murmured, almost to herself as she tried to unravel what seemed to have been different over the past few weeks. She felt Emma cringe beside her. “Emma?”

“I’m f– ”

“Don’t you _dare_ say fine.”

“ – Frankly not sure there’s anything to talk about?” Though Emma had probably meant to sound like she had not changed what she was going to say and had probably not meant the sentence as a question, her voice pitched higher at the end, and Regina could see her eyes flicker to the side as she’d quickly come up with an alternative statement. She squeezed Emma’s hand again.

“Let’s start at the very beginning,” Regina quipped, a sly smile lighting up her eyes.

It was worth it to watch Emma’s suspicion turn to muted outrage. “You know Do-Re-Mi. You _knew_ what that was from. You know _The Sound of Music_.” Emma bumped her shoulder roughly against Regina’s, scowl firmly in place. Yet she did not move away from where she’d settled against the former Queen.

Regina shrugged, unapologetic. “The sooner you speak, the sooner I stop using this information against you.”

Emma visibly hesitated, delaying any reply by pulling her hand away and rearranging herself to face Regina on the couch cross-legged. “I don’t know what’s going on.” She twisted her fingers together restlessly, and Regina set her hand on top of them to still her fidgeting without interrupting. “I thought…I thought this had to do with Henry leaving. That I was just anticipating being alone again and that it was making me lose sleep. But. I can’t sleep even when he’s staying with me.” Emma’s breath hitched. “During the day I’m fine, everything is normal. It’s at night that everything seems desolate, and everything seems to remind me of _something_ I experienced while I was in the system, and…I don’t know, I’ve tried controlling it, and I’ve tried changing the focus of my thoughts, and nothing works. I can’t stop thinking about the past, mulling over things that have happened and…it’s…I’m so tired, I’m sleeping during the day but at night I can’t sleep because my brain is too busy, and all these _memories_ just hit me.”

The words were tumbling out of Emma now. Regina’s heart constricted in empathy, but she knew that, if Emma were to keep talking, she could not interrupt. Emma’s restless energy finally got the best of her, and she stood, agitatedly pacing side to side in the study. “It’s like…I don’t know what I’m doing half of the time. What if I don’t belong here once Henry has left? I’m used to people leaving me behind, I am, but this feels different. What if, after all these years of growing roots in Storybrooke, I’m alone again and isolated and…things have been good lately, but what if they’re not anymore and my life is gonna go back to how it used to be, where I don’t fit and everything is disconnected and…and I look in the mirror and I don’t...”

Regina decided she could not let this go on; she stepped in front of Emma, blocking her path. “Emma.” The blonde halted, hesitantly meeting her eyes. “You are not going to be alone. You have your parents. Henry will be a short drive away. You have friends in this town. And you have me. Tell me, why did you show up at _my_ door tonight?”

“Because it was that or I run, cross the town line and never look back,” Emma murmured brokenly, eyes now focused on the floor. It wasn’t the answer Regina had expected, but she hid her surprise.

“But you came here instead. I am not going anywhere, Emma. This house is always open to you.” Emma stayed silent. Regina sighed, rubbing her eyes. She still hadn’t shaken her odd dreams tonight, the parallel between what Emma had just told her and her dreams nagging at her – both of them stuck thinking about the past, losing themselves in it and worrying about the memories meaning something sinister and feeling like they were trapped to be burdened by those reflections forever. Eventually, perhaps, she would talk to Emma about it, but for now the Savior was overwhelmed. “Why don’t you sit?”

Emma did as instructed, curling in on herself. “What am I going to do?” Emma’s question was more of a whimper.

“You’re going to tell me absolutely everything, and then _we_ are going to figure out why you are getting sucked into these memories and losing sleep. We’re going to find a solution, magical or otherwise. And then you are going to be okay.” Regina settled her hands in her lap, resolute in her answer. If Emma argued, she would argue back – because, obviously, whatever was happening with the Savior was tearing her apart. And Regina would not stand by and let that happen. “You are _not_ alone anymore. You do not have to face this by yourself.”

Emma locked eyes with Regina, the depth of her yearning and hope evident from the hesitant smile that was slowly lighting up her face. “So we do this together?”

Regina felt her eyes crinkle in response to the tentative enthusiasm spilling across Emma’s face and gleaming in her eyes. She’d seen that look before, that smile was a moment in her vault, it was _see? that’s a start_ and a turning point in their working together as a team. She tilted her head to the side, a warm flood of relief and affection for Emma filling her. “Damn right.”


	5. Chapter 5

“D’you ever think about the Wish Realm?” Emma mumbled around the Twizzlers rope in her mouth, turning the page in the book she was supposed to be reading. It had been exactly four nights since Emma had showed up on Regina’s doorstep, and Regina had jumped into helping her immediately. While Regina perused potential magical avenues for Emma’s sleep problem and relentless memories of her childhood, Emma had been firmly commanded to settle down on the sofa chair and read _Say Good Night to Insomnia_. She had followed half of the instructions: she’d plopped down onto the sofa chair, slinging her legs over the arm and whining that she wouldn’t be able to read unless Regina let her stay like that. But the book did not have any ability to hold her attention. Actually, the idea of reading about it and labelling herself as an _insomniac_ had made her unenthusiastic about absorbing anything in this book. She didn’t care what some self-assessment had to say.

“Are you reading?” Regina admonished, looking up from the ancient tomb on her desk.

“Yes!” Emma knew her answer was too quick, too animated to be anything but defensive, but she kept her face neutral, pulling her candy slowly from her mouth. Maybe Regina wouldn’t notice her lie.

Regina clearly _did_ notice, sighing as she pressed her fingers to her nose and then stared Emma down. For as long as she could, Emma met that gaze head-on, clenching her jaw with stubbornness. She lasted less than 30 seconds. “…No.”

“Emma – ”

“I _know_ , read the book, learn from it, blah blah blah. Just answer my question!”

Regina stood from her desk, regally striding over to Emma’s side; Emma felt hope well up in her that she’d get to put down the book and stop pretending to read and instead, Regina would talk to her. Regina even reached down, taking the book out of her hands, and Emma smirked, triumphant.

And then Regina turned the book back two pages, shoving it back into her hands. “No. Read.” Emma’s face fell.

“Regi _na_. Come on. I’m pretty sure if I was an insomniac we would have known that by now. Book’s not gonna help me. Talk to me, I’m bored and you’re reading Gaelic.”

“Elvish.”

“Whatever. That’s not the point.” Emma rolled over on the sofa chair, laying herself as pathetically as possible across it. “The thing is, I can’t help but think about the Wish Realm. ‘Cause, you came after me, and, you were my best chance. I don’t think I’d have gotten out of there without you. But. As soon as I saw you, I knew it wasn’t real. At least, deep down I think I did. And. I don’t know.” Emma paused, biting her candy thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’m gonna get out of this without you, either. I could do without the book, though. Our best chance is together. We always figure it out when we work together.”

“Emma Swan. If you haven’t noticed, it is after midnight. I, for one, would prefer to continue looking for an answer to this rather than participate in fruitless woolgathering.”

“I’m not gathering wool, I’m just thinking. And, hey, it’s better than me reflecting on my childhood, right? Unless you’d rather I tell you about how, when I was in foster family number 14, my foster brother made fun of my last name, so I set off fireworks on the lawn while he was playing football with his friends and told him that birds of a feather flock together, and that this was merely the first time there would be a swan who got the best of him?”

“Emma,” Regina sighed, looking thoroughly exasperated. “Stop conjuring spirits. That will not help you sleep.”

“This one followed me home, okay?” Emma smirked, leaning over the side of the couch to grab at her bag, pulling out the mirror Henry had given her and waving it in front of her face. “See? Swans. I mean, I coulda sworn when Henry gave this to me that there were two swans, not one, but all this sleep deprivation must be eating at my brain. Much better to talk about the Wish Realm. We work well together, admit it.” Actually, just the fact that Regina was now helping her look for a solution to her sleeplessness and spending time with her at night when she’d clearly prefer to be sleeping had cheered Emma up immensely. She was having fun tonight, doing what she did best: annoying Regina.

Regina wasn’t listening to her anymore, and Emma frowned, following her gaze to the mirror. Emma was still waving it around in her hand, reflecting circles of light up and down on the ceiling. “Think this works to hypnotize people?” she asked.

“Emma. What did you say about the mirror?” Regina asked suddenly, flipping through a book that she’d set aside earlier.

“Um. That it had two swans originally? I don’t know, Henry gave it to me, he found it…” Emma blinked, perplexed. She’d grown to have a love-hate relationship with this thing. It was great at showing her everything except for herself; somehow, the mirror was a simultaneous reminder of how far she’d come and all that she’d lost along the way.

“No. Why do you have the mirror with you? You said…this one followed you home. The spirits…the swans…” Emma watched Regina’s fingers running along a line of text in one of the books as she devoured the information; she chewed her lip, hesitant to interrupt the former Queen’s focus when her expression meant that thoughts were rolling through her head on the way to a solution.

“Regina, you’re right, it’s late…maybe you should…”

“My dreams. The ones about my time in the Enchanted Forest. They’ve all involved mirrors.” Regina glanced up at Emma, a wild look in her eyes. Even if she was looking at Emma, the blonde knew she wasn’t really _seeing_ her, she was stuck in her thoughts. “And the other night, you were worried about looking in the mirror and not recognizing yourself.” She tapped the book, almost as if she’d forgotten that Emma hadn’t read whatever was in it.

“Yeah, but...” Emma started, furrowing her brow. She was trying her best to follow Regina’s line of thoughts, but felt lost. “You said that you’ve also dreamed about things that weren’t from the Enchanted Forest, like Neverland and stuff. You think your dreams are related to my insomnia by _magic_ now?”

Regina had taken to pacing now, and Emma jumped up to follow her. “The dreams started around the same time as your insomnia. Right after Henry brought that mirror home. I don’t believe in that kind of coincidence, do you?”

Emma tilted her head to the side, squinting as she thought about it. “No, I guess not. But it’s just a mirror. From Boston. I don’t believe in that kind of coincidence when there’s magic involved, but this...”

“...Could very well be magic, Emma.” Regina stopped suddenly, turning around to face Emma, and Emma nearly knocked into her. Regina set her hands on Emma’s shoulders. “There are themes here. Reflections, our pasts...working together. You...you said our best chance is together.”

“Because in the Wish Realm –” Emma stuttered, wishing she could connect the dots the way Regina seemed to have done so easily. Regina’s right hand slid down from her shoulder, clasping Emma’s left tightly, almost as if she’d fall if she let go. Emma’s breath hitched, and she flexed her fingers around the handle of the mirror she was still holding. God, she was still holding the mirror, why was she holding the mirror? Her head was spinning now, torn between puzzling over this moment and remembering how her heart had lurched as the two of them had stood side by side, staring down into the portal meant to take them home. Moments before they’d thrown down the bean, Regina had implied that she had a favorite Emma Swan model, which had oddly made Emma feel more like she belonged in Storybrooke than purchasing a house had. They’d held hands, just like they were now, ready to return home. If they hadn’t been interrupted, maybe...Emma shook off the thought, pushing away as she always had that feeling that something between the two of them had been about to change before they lost that portal. Regina had been the one who brought Emma’s memories back, who had come to rescue her from her own foolish wish. "Because in the Wish Realm, we were each other's best chance. Maybe that...didn't go away."

Emma couldn’t look away from Regina now, feeling almost as if she were in a trance. She barely registered her own movement or Regina’s. Somehow, inexplicably, they met in the middle, lips pressing together in a chaste first kiss.

The explosion of light around them, one she had become _very_ familiar with in Storybrooke, startled her, sending her stumbling backwards and barreling back into the sofa. Her knees buckled against it, and she fell onto her ass; Regina still hadn’t moved. “Did we just...” Emma gasped, warmth dancing down her spine as she stared wide-eyed at Regina.

Regina, fingers pressing against her lips and staring at Emma with the same shock, nodded. “True Love’s Kiss.”

A soft breathy laugh escaped Emma, and she tilted her head down, hiding her blush with her hair. The mirror was resting in her lap, decorative casing-side up. With two swans floating across the water together. She ran a finger along the base of the handle, raising an eyebrow when she felt three raised points. A crown. Well, damn. A _magic_ mirror from Boston that made her reflect on the past.

“I...think your son gave me a cursed mirror, Mayor Mills.”

Laughing chestnut eyes met hers, love and affection shining on Regina’s face. “Oh, so he’s _my_ son when something bad happens?”

Unable to help herself, Emma set the mirror down on the couch and leapt off of it, pulling Regina to her. “Yes, exactly,” she replied, pressing their lips together a second time. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she let herself cling to the moment.

\----

In the morning, when they both woke up side by side in Regina’s bed, Emma pressed her toes into Regina’s knee. “I slept.”

Regina’s thumb swept over her cheek. “Me too. No dreams of the past. Just the future.”

Emma grinned, cuddling further into the bed and as a result closer into Regina’s embrace. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Writers and artists spent months creating the fics and art you enjoy - it would mean the world to them if you commented to tell them what you liked! The SQSupernova team is also sponsoring a contest for commenters, and you can find out more [here](http://sqsupernova.tumblr.com/post/164792441694/announcing-the-sqsn-comments-contest-a-reward-for).


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